First Breath After Coma
by C-Unit
Summary: Will sand, sun, and surf not to mention a girl named Lizzie be enough to save Gordo from himself? [Oneshot]


DISCLAIMER: Disney owns Lizzie McGuire. I do not.

FIRST BREATH AFTER COMA

My doctors – well, my parents, because they're psychiatrists and that's sort of like being a doctor – diagnosed me with clinical depression. They looked at my pale skin, my greasy hair, and how I would retreat into my room, and became worried. They sat me down on the living room couch, their perfect postures sitting across from me.

"David, we're worried about you" said my mom. My dad nodded in agreement.

"This isn't how a boy is supposed to spend his summer vacation" he said. I could only look at them, tears lining my skin and a heavy weight in my stomach.

It wasn't until this intervention that I realized my friends were gone. I hadn't spoken to any of them in any way for almost a month. All I would do was sit on the computer in the days, and go to my shitty fast-food job in the evenings. Only after my parents had their little talk with me did I myself begin to notice that something was wrong with me. I smelled like dirt from not showering. None of my shirts were clean. The dark circles under my eyes made my gaze look deep and hollow. I was revolted at myself, standing in front of the mirror.

My parents had a plan though. They told me that I needed to get away from myself. I needed to reinvent who I was. I needed to take stock of my life and decide what I wanted to do with the future. I needed fresh air, sun, and a whole new perspective.

"You need fresh air, sun, and a whole new perspective" my mom says, casually pacing back and forward around the living room. Her rich-bitch dress rides up just past her knees and I can see that no expense will be spared to make me feel better. I know I can swing the situation my way if I wanted to.

"Why don't I take a trip somewhere?" I ask. My mom stops pacing, and my dad looks at me, a grin tugging at his lips.

Next thing I know I'm on a plane heading towards the Caribbean. Alone with only a backpack and some swimming trunks to keep me company.

My parents decide that somewhere warm and tropical would be best, so they pool their resources and hook me up with an all-inclusive week in the fancy 4-star "Rio de Paulo Mar" resort. It's on the beach, white sands, blue water, thatched huts, and clay buildings stretching as far as my eye can see. My room is simple, yet elegant. The patio looks out on to the beach, and a small mini bar stands near the end of the bed.

I take off my shirt and put on my swimming trunks, looking in the mirror. I'm so pasty white, tired looking, and skinny, I look like a concentration camp survivor. I could blind people by reflecting the sun into their eyes. _You have to get better_ I tell myself. I slather on some suntan lotion and head out towards the beach.

I can feel myself smiling. There's food, beautiful girls, fun stuff to do and just a general air of happiness everywhere I look. I sit on a deck chair that overlooks the ocean, flipping through a magazine and letting the sun bronze my skin.

"Hello" say a girl, who stands over me. I can't see her, the sun in my eyes. She looks kind of short, and her shoulder length hair creates a moving silhouette in the breeze.

"Hi" I say back, squinting back at the girl. I guess she understood my plight, sitting down on the table next to me. Wearing a tight pink swimming suit, she's blonde, curvy, and incredibly tanned. She's a golden goddess, and I'm almost breathless.

"I'm Lizzie" she says. I nod.

"I'm David, but you can call me Gordo if you want."

"Is that a nickname or something?"

"Definitely something" I say, grinning. She smiles back, and looks over at the ocean.

"I've been here a month, and you're the first person my age to come around here" she states.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Everyone here's all stuffy and old. They all want to go to dinner parties and just sit around and talk. Boring as hell" she says, grinning at me.

"I can assure you, I'm not boring and as stuffy as those people" I say. She looks at me with her eyebrow raised.

"You don't look like you get out that much" she says. I tense up, remembering my pale complexion and so-skinny-I'm-almost-invisible stomach. I look at her tan, her curves, and hope that my week at the resort might restore me to the sort of healthy vigor I used to have.

I don't see Lizzie until later that night. After changing into shorts and a t-shirt and wolfing down almost everything at the buffet I could, I casually check out the outside dance floor. A slow jam from 1998 plays on the stereo speakers, a red light swirls around the floor, and couples dance. I sit down with a drink in my hand, amusing myself with the sight of how everyone's in love. I see Lizzie, now in a short, flower strewn dress eyeing me from across the floor, a smirk on her face. She quickly approaches me.

"Dance" she demands, holding out her hand. I raise my hands in defense and shake my head.

"I don't do dancing. Unless it's Sinatra, of course, but I doubt that'll get played." She raises her eyebrow at me again.

"Come on. I need someone to ward off the business-trip perverts that usually try to dance with me at these things." I look around. All along the edge of the dance floor are men in business suits stealing glances at her, whispering in each other's ear, and grinning from time to time. I take sympathy and get up to dance.

She leads me to the middle of the floor and we dance close together, slowly circling each other to the beat of the sappy romance songs.

"So, where are you from?" she asks.

"Hillridge, California" I say. "You?"

"Manhatten" she answers.

"Opposites, then" I say. She smiles.

"Yet, really not that different, you know?" she says. She brings me closer. The middle-aged, wife cheating, home wrecking business men are green with envy, and I can see it on their faces. I feel some sense of satisfaction.

"How long are you here for?" she asks me.

"A week, you?"

"A month and a half more. I spend my entire break here with my folks."

"That must be fun" I say, pulling into her a little closer. We're close, but certainly not as close as we could be.

"It's alright. Like I said, there aren't a lot of kids around here. It can get boring."

We dance some more, and I lose track of time. The crowd thins out, the house lights come on, and I look around confused from the loss of time.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Lizzie asks me.

"Sure."

Lizzie takes me out to the beach. Lights hang from the palm trees and gives off a soft glow as we slowly walk through the sand. The tide lashes at my feet and calms me down. Lizzie stops walking and faces me. We embrace each other like we did when we were dancing. I can barely look away from her eyes.

"I'm glad you showed up, Gordo" she says. "Definitely a nice change of pace."

"Well, I certainly needed this little vacation."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…things weren't so good at home."

"That can happen."

"I know" I say. She smiles a warm smile and she kisses me on the cheek slowly. I try to think, try to move, but it's only cotton in my head. Lizzie seems to know that I'm motionless (and brainless too, but for the sake of posterity I like to give myself more credit than that) so she takes my hand and leads me towards the hotel.

I wake up, and it's morning. The sun is bright and the sky is a blue I didn't even know existed. Lizzie lies next to me, her naked form glowing in the sunlight. I quietly shift out of bed and tiptoe out on to the patio. The breeze is cool and refreshing. I haven't breathed air this fresh in a long time. I realize, looking back at Lizzie quietly stirring from her sleep, that maybe I will get better. Maybe this was the step I had to take to feel something more than what I was before the trip. I can see the faint starts of a tan beginning and can hear Lizzie quietly walking up to join me on the patio, and for the first time in a long time, I feel good again.


End file.
